


Lucky

by Senora_Luna



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Sex, Some Humor, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 12:33:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senora_Luna/pseuds/Senora_Luna
Summary: Hèctor Rivera has been playing music all his life. As a young man he is still trying to find his success in early 20th century Mexico. He can't believe his luck when he hears the Ernesto de la Cruz not only saw his show one evening, but is waiting to speak to him in his dressing room.





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elletoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elletoria/gifts).



> For Elletoria's birthday! Who constantly gifts everyone, here is fic just for one of her favorite AUs <3 <3

I  _ can’t  _ be this lucky. 

 

Hèctor tried to wipe the ridiculous look from his expression. Dignity, he had to keep some dignity. As poised as possible he attempted to lean against the dressing room counter in front of the illuminated mirror. Instead he sat upon his comb, and quickly shuffled his legs awkwardly doing the best he could to avoid letting the pain register on his face. 

“Everything...all right? “

“Of course!” The dressing room could go up in flames from the fumes of all their hair oil and he would still say the same. So long as  _ the  _ de la Cruz was in it with him-sitting so comfortably-smiling at him like he was an old friend. “You were saying-you really-...I mean you’re not yanking my chain-you liked my set?” 

“My boy,” de la Cruz chuckled, “I don’t believe in flattery. How can an artist grow, if he’s constantly flattered with false praise?” 

“That’s true, I agree...I just-...I mean-I don’t mean to sound like I’m kissing ass but you’re Ernesto de la Cruz,” this earned him another chuckle-and it sent a flutter in his stomach from the deep octave of amusement, “I mean  _ meeting  _ you was a dream of mine-and now you’re-...you’re sitting here…” 

“What? You think you don’t deserve my presence?” He asked it with an air of incredulous wonder but his posture spoke differently. De la Cruz wasn’t in one of his performative charro suits, but instead in a very fine tailored suit that’s shimmering finely threaded texture displayed just how incredibly wealthy he was without even trying. And his legs were crossed in the unfitting, seam ripped armchair, he reclined in as if it were a throne. Upon his fingers were two large rings, one with a glittering jewel, a cut that suggested antiquity, class, elegance like a status marker of some royalty or official. Hèctor truthfully didn’t pay much attention to jewelry save the fact they were glittering from the glare of the mirror lights, from the way de la Cruz leaned his chin upon his hand, propping an elbow on the armrest. 

“I’m not dense.” Hèctor retorted-resisting  _ some _ of the sass he would normally give to such a presumptuous question. This was his idol after all. “There’s plenty of young musicos like myself, plenty of talents, good writers, good dancing, good at guitar, I’m not saying I’m  _ not _ , but-...I’m not deluded. I don’t have that much a name-yet.” He tacked on the word with a sudden reminder to preserve his dignity. “I don’t come from any big family-...honestly I survive gig to gig. I’m just trying to-...well make sure I’m not the butt of some joke here.” As he spoke de la Cruz’s smile sank away to a near grimace. Well that didn’t last long, he knew his mouth would eventually fuck him over but he didn’t expect it this quickly. 

“Hèctor won’t you come closer?” Another contradiction. It was posed as a question but the tone it came out in seemed to suggest if he didn’t de la Cruz would depart the room in the next moment. So without thinking he did, reclining against wall beside the armchair. 

“I wasn’t trying to seem rude-,” 

“I don’t ever want to hear you speak about yourself like that again.” Well that was unexpected. Hèctor rose a brow studying the man-ignoring the frustration he appeared just as handsome in person as he did on his illustrated record covers if not more so. “My boy, I was you once. I was no one. I came from nothing. I came from nowhere. I may as well have been dirt.” 

“...Well I wouldn’t call myself dir-” 

“My point,” de la Cruz said more firmly, lifting his head and reaching out for Hèctor’s hand with his jeweled one. “I see myself in you. I see passion in you-I see a true joy for this. You owned that crowd, that energy...there’s a...joy in you. An infectious glee. Even some mischief if I’m not wrong?” 

“...I do hear that from some of my friends.” The way de la Cruz had his hand was like they were old friends-or the way a man would flirt with an excited girl. No, he frantically wiped the latter thought from the  front of his mind feeling his cheeks grow hot. 

“So take my offer...I want to mentor you. Young artists need all the support they can get.” 

“I-want-to!” Hèctor said so quickly the words nearly tripped over each other’s syllable. “I just-...it’s hard to believe someone could be so altruistic.” 

“Why’s that? I have more money than I know what to do with. I have plenty of time in between music and performances-it’s not as though I have a wife waiting on me.” de la Cruz adds, and so subtly Hèctor wonders if he imagined it, his thumb runs over Hèctor’s bony knuckle. 

“...No catch?” 

“None.” 

“...No...expectations?” 

“Only to promise you will put all of your passion into this.” The smile returned to de la Cruz’s face. Hèctor took a moment to study the look for any deception. There were fine lines around his eyes, subtle dark bags, deep laugh lines than ran to the corners of the smile which seemed more of a smirk the longer he stared at it. However the warmth in those deep brown eyes appeared earnest-the interest in him-it made him feel the same way he did having having an audience of hundreds stare at him. How could one man hold the same volume in just his eyes alone that made him feel so saturated with attention and admiration. 

“Then of course,...I’d be loco not to.” De la Cruz squeezed his hand and it was clearly deliberate now the way his thicker fingers traced across Hèctor’s, pausing on the callous at the edge of his index finger. 

“My boy you have no idea how excited I am to work with you. We should celebrate.” It was only then he released Hèctor’s hand to open his suit jacket for a slim tin case. “Cigar?” 

“Ha-sure,” Although to be perfectly honest Hèctor wasn’t sure his trembling hands could keep hold of a cigar right now-he was practically vibrating with excitement. How was he this lucky-I mean he worked hard damn it. Of course he was a good writer, dancer, singer, so on but...this felt like a divine blessing that suddenly fell out of the sky. A part of him wanted to question if de la Cruz was sure about his decision, but wasn’t about to give him a chance to change his mind if this was some lucky fluke. 

“Get used to them then, there will be plenty in your future,” de la Cruz did not even seem to notice how close he was to losing all of his composure and letting out a grito of glee-that or he was polite enough to ignore it, and instead lit his own cigar. A cloud of wispy gray smoke curled up the wall, filling the tiny room with a rich aroma. 

“Señor de la Cruz, I...heh  _ altruistic _ as you may prove to be, surely there’s something I can do to thank you?” De la Cruz took the cigar in hand, and this time it was definitely a smirk. 

“You’re not obligated to do anything…” Now who was mischievous, he looked nearly fiendish blowing out a cloud of smoke to the side. “But...there’s many ways to show gratitude if you feel so  _ passionate  _ to do so  _ my _ boy.”

“...I feel like anything I could do or give you would be laughable,” Hèctor admitted, feeling his stomach do a leap of delight at the emphasis of his words. In his wildest dreams he could have never imagined Ernesto de la Cruz speaking about him like that. What does he possibly have that de la Cruz doesn’t, or at least couldn’t procure with the snap of his fingers? 

“You’re a man of many talents…” The words  had him so entranced with de la Cruz’s smirk he didn’t notice until it was happening that de la Cruz had moved. The slow touch of those jeweled finger tracing his wrist, invading beneath his sleeve, barely pressing up the fabric. It was nothing, just his wrist-such an innocuous area, yet Hèctor felt an embarrassing rush of blood downward. 

“Haha…” He forced out the dry laugh, hoping it would buy himself a moment to compose himself. “I guess this is when uh-...girls would offer you a kiss or something huh?” 

“Does it  _ have  _ to be a girl?” And Hèctor felt his breath catch, as he hesitantly neared the armchair until his thighs touched the armrest. 

“Not if you don’t mind…” 

“On the contrary I would like it.” This was a dream. This was insane. There was no way it was happening, his hero in front of him, offering him so much, and now suggesting he wouldn’t mind being kissed by a man. Since it was a dream there was no harm in resting his own hand on the chair, leaning closer to de la Cruz, his cologne and the sweet musk of the cigar becoming more acute the closer he drew to his mouth, surely due to his own overactive imagination. 

Their lips barely touched before Hèctor drew back. He waited for a slap, instead he received a small pout. 

“That’s all?” 

“I didn’t want to-uh-...offend you or-...” 

“I’m waiting to see your gratitude, I’ll stop you if it doesn’t please me.” de la Cruz soothed, taking another quick drag on his cigar, then beckoning Hèctor back with a wave of his hand. This time it was de la Cruz who crossed the gap, until their mouths met. Slowly, tentatively, Hèctor moved his lips parting them to let the exhale of his heat run across his smirk. To his surprise, the man followed suit-lips parted, offering Hèctor the chance to invade just as he had. Luckily his cock was thinking in that moment, otherwise he would have never let his tongue venture in to confirm his musings that de la Cruz would taste of tobacco, tequila, and something he could not even identify in the heated haze of the moment. 

“Oh  _ shit _ ,” Hèctor snapped his head back suddenly. “I’m so sorry I took it too far. I’m-uh you know post-performance high whew!” 

“The only thing you should be sorry for is stopping.” 

“I wasn’t sure if you-if men were-” 

“Men, women, what difference does it make if they’re beautiful?” While Hèctor stood stunned at the numerous implications, de la Cruz reached with his free hand hooking an index finger in one of the belt loops of his charro suit. “So why don’t you get a little more comfortable,” With the simple tug of his finger Hèctor was pulled to the edge of the chair, de la Cruz uncrossing his legs that he stood between them, “Take a seat.” 

“Wher-” Hèctor barely finished the word before it hit him what a stupid question it was. With either patience or good humor de la Cruz patted his own thigh with the cigar in hand, spilling a little ash across those expensive trousers. Well now he was fucked. He couldn’t exactly oblige without showing just how stiff the entire incident was making him. 

Then again-what was de la Cruz always said? ‘Seize your moment’? Hell if this didn’t apply-when would he get another chance to be with a man like this? Biting the bullet with a grin of his own, Hèctor slowly maneuvered into the armchair, sitting astride the lap, and ignoring the instant rush of heat he felt. Dignity, there had to be some dignity about this. 

Rather than give de la Cruz a moment to question is hard on Héctor captured his mouth in an instant, tongue darting forth in a request for passage. He’d been called a sloppy kisser before, but how does anyone kiss a man they spent their life fantasizing about calmly? If he minded he had a way of showing it, because de la Cruz did indeed part his lips, and with his free hand yanked Héctor’s lanky frame flush to his torso.

It was a surprise to him he wasn’t the only one with an erection. De la Cruz seemed even more aroused than himself from how much hard resistance he felt when their groins pressed. The room was spinning-Hèctor felt the silken fabric of his suit beneath his hands, and he was clutching it like a reign. Had he begun to grind his hips, or was it the pressure of de la Cruz’s palm sliding lower until it cupped his rear that started it? In the midst of it all both had given up the pretense how arousing this was.

“Um-” Hèctor drew back, struggling to slow his breath to any sort of calm state. 

“Is this...too much?” de la Cruz posed-and despite the look in his eyes that suggested he could  _ devour  _ Hèctor if given the chance, there did seem to be some genuine concern in his tone. 

“It’s unexpected is all-” He managed, forcing another breathless laugh. “You just offered me the world and I’m over here jumping you like-...” he struggled to find an inoffensive term. 

“I’d like to fuck you.” The words came between de la Cruz’s pants more calmly than Hèctor could ever imagine someone saying them. He even took another drag of his cigar while Hèctor attempted to find his voice. 

“Is this the catch? Are you at heart an old pervert?” Hell, even if he was, even if it was all too good to be true, a one night stand with one of the most attractive men in Mexico wasn’t a bad consolation prize. De la Cruz pouted again, narrowing his eyes with some offense. 

“ _ Old?”  _

“I didn’t say  _ elderly _ stop looking like I tasted like a lemon. I want to clear up if all that altruism was to get me in your lap-” Still scowling, de la Cruz cut him off by catching his chin. It was tight hold, nearly pulling the end of his goatee, and silencing his next words. 

“My boy if I only wanted to fuck you, I could have. A man of my status doesn’t need to play games to get someone into bed-man or woman. And if my age offends-” 

“It doesn’t!” Hèctor declared pulling free. “Honestly if fucking you is all I get I still count myself lucky. I just wanted to make sure this wasn’t an elaborate set up because I’m  _ so  _ guapo you just had to have me,” There was an edge of pacifying humor to his statement, but de la Cruz didn’t seem at all amused.

“Hèctor,” He began low, taking an aggravated huff on his cigar. “I think lying over stupid matters is just petty. If I wanted one fuck out of you I would have come here and told you from the start. I want much more of you.” 

“More of me?” 

“...I want to see you grow, I want to see you join my ranks, I want to watch you write your songs and see you performing in the finery a man of your passion deserves...I want to give you what no one gave me. And if you want to show me  _ gratitude _ …” This time he doesn’t seize Hèctor’s jaw, but cups it softly, running his thumb against his lower lip. “Then I would be absolutely delighted…” 

“No strings attached...you want to help me...and fucking you is just a...a bonus?” 

“Exactly.” 

“And if I don’t want-,” 

“There’s plenty who do...your loss after all.” Another drag, he’s so sure of it. Like  _ Hell  _ is he going to get to be so cocky. Hèctor seized his face, colliding his mouth to smear the smirk off of de la Cruz’s face. It was like a match to the oil filled room. 

It was no longer just a kiss, but a rush to the next step. De la Cruz had his free hand tight around Hèctor’s rear-roughly grinding their covered erections into one another. Sure Hèctor had dabbled with a few men before-clumsy drunken experiments, fun silly evenings. But this was another level, especially with a man so strong and hefty he could maneuver him with ease, so little effort he didn’t even need to put his cigar out. 

He couldn’t let himself be completely subdued now could he? With a hint of mischief he broke the kiss suddenly-relishing the fact de la Cruz chased after his mouth a few seconds before catching himself. 

“What is it?” He panted, a note of impatience in the request that satisfied Hèctor. 

“I think I know an even more passionate way to show gratitude.” He was already sliding off de la Cruz’s lap as he spoke, inciting a stutter of protest-landing upon his knees before the armchair. “Surely someone as experienced as you knows what this is?” he sneered reaching for ornate belt buckle before him. 

“Indeed-does that mean you think you have the oral skills to impress me?” try as he might to conceal it, Hèctor picked out the edge of excitement in his words. It was enough to cancel out any doubt about how capable he was giving an impressive oral presentation to a man who probably received one everyday. 

It was certainly a confidence booster how hard his cock was already when Hèctor pulled it free from his underwear. So the rumors weren’t  _ entirely  _ true _ - _ de la Cruz was not gifted with an enormous cock that left anyone who spent an evening with him drown in bliss from the orgasmic ecstasy it incited. He was overwhelmingly typical in length-but girth-perhaps that’s where the rumor came from, since even Hèctor’s long fingers barely overlapped when wrapped around it. Was it worth the sore jaw to prove a point? 

“You’re welcome to come back up here if you’re nervous.” The absolute amusement in his voice answered Hèctor’s question immediately. Leaning into de la Cruz’s lap, he immediately slid as much as he could of him down his throat; resisting a twinge at his gag reflex from the girth that spread the back of his throat. Thank the Lord for the long notes that teach you to breathe through your nose. A low rumble came from de la Cruz, and that was enough motivation to resist any strain on his throat. “So you’re good at measuring your breath, I’d expect it how you hit those high notes…”  

“I’m not an  _ amatuer _ ” Hèctor quipped, sliding off with a pop of suction and saliva. A line ran down his chin, and he contemplated how much  _ dignity  _ this was maintaining. 

“...I don’t think you have any idea how good of a look that is on you.” De la Cruz was panting now, taking another shaky drag from the cigar. A red coating had formed across his cheeks, and that was incentive enough to fuck all dignity away. 

“Uhuh I’ll take your word for it.” He added with another flippant scoff. Hèctor leaned in once more, returning the cock down his throat and feeling the hard palm of de la Cruz tangle in his hair, nearly pulling it as if to punish his mocking.

“How long can you hold it?” Oh now he’d done it. Toying with him, still smoking that cigar like this was such a casual event for him. Lifting his gaze Hèctor answered with a wink, resisting a laugh at the jump it caused in de la Cruz’s brows. 

The palm became a fist, and Hèctor felt his face forced downward until his lips brushed d la Cruz’s balls, and nose crinkled against his pelvis. He coughed only once, then regained a needed burst of oxygen through his nose. It was a good thing he had abandoned dignity because something about it all made his cock throb in a way that threatened to ruin his good charro pants. Maybe because it was de la Cruz of all people-he had Mexico’s biggest icon’s cock down his throat, not many could claim that now could they? 

Maybe that was part of the exhilaration as de la Cruz thrusted his hips up, as if his face could somehow get deeper into his lap, his cock further down his throat. The musky scent of his pubic hair, or maybe it was the salty taste of sweat his tongue sampled each time he was pressed into the hot, pillowy, cushions of balls. The pubic hair tickled his nose, and his own forehead was coating in a sheen of sweat. It was harder to keep up his breaths as the cock knocked the back of his throat each thrust, but hell he would die on this hill if it kept de la Cruz’s eyes so aglow. He’d choke, dribble, devour the man until he couldn’t sing for a week if it left an impression-especially when his efforts began to repe the reward of precum on the back of his tongue. 

It was then de la Cruz let him go, his chest visibly jumping, sweat down his face too. Before Hèctor could wipe away the mess of saliva and precum across his chin de la Cruz caught his wrist, 

“Now wait just a minute...don’t touch that. We’re not done,” he panted, “I said I wanted to  _ fuck _ you, not be sucked off.” He put the cigar in his teeth, then shrugged off his suit jacket. “Stand up,” and he gazed around the room, “lean over the dresser, in front of the mirror.”He gestured with his cigar, an impatient order between his his pants-waving a circle with the cigar that it drew a cloud of smoke. 

“So I’m the one getting fucked?” It was hard to be snarky when his breath was still trying to catch up to his body. 

“Have a problem with that?” The amusement was back, that and a challenging glower. “If it’s too muc-” 

“Don’t even start,” Hèctor huffed rising to his feet. “I don’t care if it’s on the stage I can handle anything your pervert mind thinks of.” This time his quip gets him a half smirk-although he could tell from the the dangerous curve of his brows de la Cruz doesn’t find it so funny. “That mischief you know?” 

“Turn around.” With those words de la Cruz had stood himself. He seized Hèctor’s trim frame in one large hand like he were made of straw and the easiest thing to maneuver, catching his hip and forcing him to spin around with ease. How lost had his mind become that he was so content with this sort of twisting and teasing-especially when the hold was so incredibly strong it was like all his stature and weight had been reduced to nothing. In an instant he was pressed into de la Cruz’s back, feeling the erection  he’d caused throb against his covered ass as he was walked forward until reaching the illuminated mirror. “There, see what a sight…” 

“You have...excellent tastes…” Hèctor managed, a little startled by his own reflection. The mess down his face-the flush on his high cheek bones-the every angle his hair was spiking out at from the ruffling hold de la Cruz had kept upon it. He’d be the first to brag he was a handsome man, (fine maybe not on de la Cruz’s level but come on who was?), but the image of himself looking so entirely drunk on sex-well he hadn’t expected it to be so appealing. Maybe it it was the addition of de la Cruz’s palm, he was watching in the reflection, sliding down his waist to his belt buckle-prying it off impressively with only one hand. 

“Aren’t you talented,” The words exhaled a breeze of heat down the side of Hèctor’s neck sending a shiver down his spine as his cock was pried free. He’d gotten that comment-he had a very pleasant pito (long enough to hit the places some enjoyed), and truth be told he’d been waiting for this moment to watch how impressed he could make the oh  _ so  _ experienced man. “And here you said anything you’d give me would be laughable…” 

“Well...I didn’t expect you’d be in the mood for  _ receiving  _ this kind of gift.” Finally his impishness pulled a chuckle from de la Cruz. It sent a trickle of pleasure up his stomach as a few pleasing strokes were given. 

“Well...we’ll have to do this again someday when I am in the receiving mood.” The words made such an excited leap in Hèctor’s chest he hardly noticed as de la Cruz shrugged down his charro pants, until he was pressed forward against the dresser counter he’d been sitting on just a short time ago. “Open your legs.” Thank God he couldn’t see from this angle how the command made his cock nearly twitch and smack into the underneath of the dresser. “Good now spread your ass.” 

“You’re awfully bossy aren’t you…” Hèctor managed, trying to make his voice more stable than the quivering pants of arousal it was as he obeyed the command. De la Cruz’s hand reached around, collecting the lines of saliva and precum from his chin now-and in the mirror Hèctor could see the burning delight in his eyes as he did so. 

“You have to be assertive to get what you want.” 

“Uhuh I see you’re good at th-” Hèctor trailed off with a gasp as he felt the brush of those wet fingers across his hole. “Ah-...” 

“You’ve done this before right..?” 

“ _ Oh  _ no I have  _ no idea _ what’s happening, I thought men could only kiss and fucking was reserved for girls,” He panted sarcastically, and it earned him a press of de la Cruz’s rather large index finger against the hole.

“Answer me, I’m trying to find out how slowly I need to do this,” The impatience in his voice only broadened the smirk on Hèctor’s face. 

“Handsome as me? Not my first dance Señor.” With those words he felt the finger invade-and his smirk was stolen by de la Cruz, and replaced with a moan. Damn he knew how to move-twisting his finger to and fro as it pressed, shooting in at a diagonal that it would hit those sensitive clusters of muscle which he’d discovered on accident on evening. 

“Good...I don’t have the patience to hunt down any oil right now.” It’s deeper now-is that his whole finger inside him now? Christ the man has large hands, he could get him off with a finger-fuck if he wanted. The possibilities that presents sends another shiver down his spine, making his ass all the pliable for the intrusion. From the mirror he observed as de la Cruz put that damn cigar between his teeth. Well at least he no longer thought this was a one-hand-job. 

“Do you always smoke when fucking?”

“Only when I want to truly  _ savor  _ it  _ my boy.”  _ Oh fuck him. Or be fucked by him. Hèctor was struggling between wanting nothing more than to one up him once more with another quip for that condescension, or press his rear back impatiently that he dropped that stupid cigar. There was no time to decide, his mind went blank when a second finger began to press at the puckered edges of the hole-trying to expand it further and find a way inside. 

“F-fuckkk…” 

“Too much?” He asked through the cigar. 

“Not on your life  _ old man.”  _ It was so brief and well hard to tell since the cigar was in the way, but he was sure he saw the faintest flicker of a laugh on de la Cruz. He didn’t get the opportunity to ask because the man’s free hand suddenly was pressing against his lips. 

“Wet my fingers then-suck.” Hell he could have asked him to dance with his trousers around his ankles right now and Hèctor would have obliged so long as he kept fingering his ass like that. Keeping a demanding eye contact via the mirror Hèctor opening his mouth-letting de la Cruz’s four fingers within-they nearly fucked it just like his cock had done. “Get them wet,” and de la Cruz reached them as deep as possible-almost suffocating him again-before pulling back at the last second, slowly sliding from Hèctor’s gasping mouth and swirling any hanging lines of saliva around his fingers. 

“De  _ nada,”  _ Hèctor gasped, his voice jumping to a sharp startled moan as the two fingers within suddenly pressed up-hard into the prostate muscles. “Ay-dios mio-” 

“Tell me when you want it.” de la Cruz didn’t even sound like himself anymore-his voice was so deep, husky, tight from holding that cigar in the corner of his teeth. With hazy eyes Hèctor tore up his gaze, making out just barely the motion of de la Cruz stroking his own cock with that hand he had just so kindly soaked. 

“I think-you-you want it just as much!” Hèctor’s attempt to sound nonchalant came out in a near hiss. “What’re you waiting for-a parade?” 

“I think some manners would suit you and you mischievous streak.” 

“I thought you  _ liked  _ that?” He cut off in a gasp-suddenly the fingers are moving fast-so fast he feels the force of de la Cruz’s wrist smacking against his cheeks, the clap thankfully muffling his whimpers. 

“Say  _ por favor.”  _

“P-por favor!” Well not every battle is worth winning, Hèctor considers, especially when one’s cock is about to burst. In an instant the fingers are gone-leaving his body so cold, his hole so spread and wanting, and before he’s forced to make another embarrassing beg he feels the hot thick bulb of de la Cruz’s cock plugging it. 

“Hold yourself open-just like that,” And Hèctor can’t think of a joke this time. Instead he savors it-letting out a delicious groan as the stretch begins-his muscles widening even further to accommodate him-it’s easily the thickest cock he’s ever felt and every centimeter is a sensation plucking at every nerve of the muscles it presses past demanding all the space. Perhaps a little oil would’ve been more helpful to accommodate how blisteringly tight it is-but at this point he’s sure he would have come across the cheap dressing room carpet had they waited any longer. “Fuck-...yes-look at yourself,” 

Hèctor dropped his hands from his ass, hissing as the sensation became even tighter. He had to  clutch the desk for leverage as his knees began quaking. The pages of his song lyrics crumpled beneath his sweating palms-along with a complimentary program he’d been given to commemorate the performance. Panting harshly, he lifted his gaze to catch his reflection in the mirror. His bangs were sticking to his forehead with a layer of perspiration, his face a glow with red, lips parted, wet, gasping for breath as de la Cruz took hold of his hips and suddenly drove himself in deeply. 

“Oh-fuck, oh fuck, ay-move-” 

“Manners.” 

“Por fa-fucking-vor-move!” Hèctor groaned, looking up in a mixture of exasperation and arousal. The smoke from the cigar was nearly clouding de la Cruz’s face, but in the mirror he could at least grasp the smirk in his eyes, the dominant twinkle from his impatience. He delivered, violently. The weight of the man collided into Hèctor making him hiss into the dresser, as the air nearly left his lungs. The sounds of his wrists paled in comparison to the thunderness clap of his hips making contact-his balls slapping against his rear-the force would surely leave him red later but like hell if that mattered right now. 

“Don’t you see what I see-...in the mirror-that fucking-passion Hèctor.” de la Cruz slurred, tuts of smoke coming from the cigar as his breath grew more unhinged. Hèctor turned his gaze back to his own reflection once more-his pants were fogging the mirror and he could barely see himself. Neither of those things mattered to him as much as the absolutely arousing sight of de la Cruz’s body rocking over his bent form, how the man released his hips for only a moment to roll up his shirt sleeves and exposure his thick forearms, covered in dark curling hair. Then with one hand he was clasped again-the rings pressing cold into his hot flesh-the thrusts becoming faster-more relentless. 

“Señor de la Cruz,” Hèctor found himself moaning the name before he could stop. It paid off, it seemed to ignite something in the man, and  _ finally _ he put that damn cigar out on the dresser-narrowly missing Hèctor’s forearm, as his pants became erratic, nearly vicious growls. 

“That’s right- _ I  _ found you.  _ I  _ get to have you. And whenever you feel so  _ grateful.  _ I get to fuck you senseless.” 

“S-si!” 

“Manners,” He snarled in that raspy voice, smacking Hèctor’s rear with his palm. 

“Si Señor de la Cruz!” He corrected, all jokes gone, his mind focused on one thing alone, reaching that orgasm, spilling the tension that thick hot weight driving in and out of him was building. The room was on fire now-it had to be, he felt like he was going to melt out of his own skin. A hand seized his hair once more, forcing him to look in the mirror beyond the foggy mess his pants had created. 

“Look at yourself-see what I’m doing to you? I’ll do this to your entire life-I’ll enhance it-make it so fucking perfect you want to get fucked like this everyday musico.” Everything about it had Hèctor shaking, words were lost from his mind, he could only pant and moan in agreement, “So do it for me-come for me-show me just how grateful you are-show me just how  _ happy  _ I’ve made you!” How could he resist. 

Had it not been for de la Cruz’s hand his head would have fallen to the dresser as he bit down on his lip to prevent a yell from the harsh orgasm. Semen jutted forth from his cock-landing in lines against the dirty club floor, and shadowed wall beneath the dresser. The world was spinning he had to be dreaming. His idol fucking him to bliss? Offering him the world to build is career, his talent, his life? All of this was a beautiful orgasmic dream and he would open is eyes in his little bed, and groan at the need to wash his sheets again-but it was a beautiful dream while it lasted. Then a sound broke through his haze. 

“Ay mierda...you’re something else.” de la Cruz’s voice, a struggling pant to reclaim his own composure, as he reclined on his forearms over Hèctor on the dresser. 

“One of a kind…” Hèctor managed, coming back to reality. He hadn’t even noticed the man’s orgasm, it must have happened while he was on another plane lost in his own haze. 

“Seems I...made...a good choice with you.” And slowly he was pushing himself up, his cock coming free from Hèctor’s clenching grip, leaving him with the feeling of his semen running down his thigh. “Have you had dinner?” the change in tone, the abrupt calm was so shocking Hèctor wondered if he misheard.

“Have I-...is that a joke-”

“Have you eaten? You must be hungry after a performance like that.” 

“...The show or-”

“Both.” The amused tone was back in his voice again. Oh good, so he didn’t just have a wild dream.

“No...I came straight here when I heard you were waiting.” 

“Let’s get some, I’m famished. I doubt you’ve ever been to any of the fine restaurants around here.” This was true, but Hèctor wasn’t going to both giving him the satisfaction of an answer as he straightened up.

“Sure, let me just clean up-”

“No. Leave it.” In an instant de la Cruz leaned an arm over him upon the dresser-catching his gaze in the mirror. “Then you can remember how  _ happy _ I’ve made you through the meal.” Before he could question it de la Cruz reached for charro pants tugging them up over the mess of sweat and semen. 

“These are my best pants you know…” Hèctor quipped putting on a smirk. “But if you want to buy me new ones-”

“I’ll buy you a new pair every time.” de la Cruz assured, squeezing his ass to seal the deal. 

“Heh, aren’t I lucky.” 


End file.
